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Richard Brautigan 1084

Richard and I sat quietly typing away. He on his Royal typewriter, me on my laptop. The sounds of his keys paused for a moment, but I continued on deep on concentration  I heard a small chuckle release from his lips. Startled, I turned to him to see he was watching me intently.

“What?” I asked.

He only shook his head and returned to his work.

“No, really, what?” I asked.

He waved his hand at me as if to say, “Nothing. Forget about it.”

The sound of his keys rang out clearly as he continued to type.

“I need a word,” I said.

“Hmm?” he did not turn from his work.

“I need a word for something,” I continued sitting back in my chair.

“Coffee,” he answered.

“No,” I shook my head.

“You need coffee,” he stood and headed toward the kitchen. “Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee affords.”

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